Desire Lines
by rivle
Summary: "Pass up a chance to work with Cate? I must have really hated myself." Cate Blanchett/Rooney Mara WIP
1. Chapter 1

_"Pass up a chance to work with Cate? I must have really hated myself."_

When the interview was over at last, the sun had begun to set and the air was turning chilly. Rooney's dessert had long since melted to a thin, milky puddle, slowly drying along the bottom of the container. Lauren from _Elle_ collected her notes and thanked Rooney again for the time. Rooney demurred and said something pleasant in kind. They made small talk as they left the restaurant and then parted ways.

Rooney slipped on her sunglasses and adjusted her scarf fashionably around her neck and shoulders as she made her way back home. She elected to walk the few blocks, to excise the subtle nerves she always developed under any media scrutiny. So begins the months-long promotional period for Carol… She still had many more such encounters lined up this month.

And she would be seeing Cate soon, she knew.

Cate.

—

London premiere.

Rooney fidgeted in her ruffled dress. Another succession of flashes flooded her vision as she schooled her expression into a careful neutral, deliberating shifting from side to side for the cameras.

She heard her name rise over the din of voices. There were others vying for her attention, beyond the railing that held back paparazzi, bloggers, fashion journalists, but she felt the recognition of this particular voice in her skin. A slow tingle started in the base of her neck.

"Rooney Mara!"

Rooney turned towards an elegant silhouette, a blonde halo of hair, gliding in her direction. Cate appeared as much an untouchable dream in her shimmering black gown as she always did.

And then Cate was looming over her with warmly appraising eyes, a smile curving her pink lips. She gestured at and skimmed Rooney's sheer dress with light and graceful hands.

"Now this is gorgeous," Cate murmured, "Alexander McQueen?"

A violent wave of butterflies erupted in the pit of Rooney's stomach but she managed to say, "Yes."

—

Publicity events and interviews and the rapid clip of her promotional schedule in different cities were always exhausting, but they were made tolerable with her cast mates and Todd and Phyllis, where she could nearly imagine herself as an invisible spectator for periods of time. Todd's presence in particular helped Rooney feel anchored - always insightful and voluble. And Cate - well, Cate was unsettlingly charismatic even while parroting the company line for the umpteenth time. "Carol is a love story…"

They sometimes had dinner together, small but lively celebrations along with close friends and family, basking in the successes of Cannes and other screenings. The critical response was impossibly positive so far - the cynical part of Rooney couldn't help but wonder when the other shoe would drop.

She shared this with Charlie one afternoon over lunch back in New York, and he only shrugged. "It's good, enjoy it."

—

Rooney tried to enjoy it — or at least remain disaffected - but the screenings were also bringing back vivid memories of their month of filming. The first time she watched the finished product at Cannes, she felt herself uncontrollably slipping into a sea of self loathing while watching her own performance. All her anxieties during the early filming seemed embarrassingly visible on the big screen; she tried not to wonder if she was as obvious to those who knew her.

—

Months earlier...

Rooney stepped onto set after months of prep and rehearsal. Since they were shooting out of sequence, it would be Rooney's first but Therese's last scene in bed with Carol.

Rooney had read and re-read the script and talked at length with Todd. She knew this scene would precipitate another pivotal act in the film. Therese and Carol had made love in Waterloo, they had been traveling for some time already, and Therese had just watched Carol nearly come unhinged in her discovery of the private investigator. Therese yearned but was still uncertain which lines she was allowed to traverse in Carol's life.

It was not difficult for Rooney to imagine as she stood at her mark, across the half-lit bedroom from Cate, allowing the make-up team to adjust her wig and apply the finishing brushes of powder. In Therese's patterned pajamas, she felt half virgin bride, half silly awkward child, and entirely too vulnerable.

Todd signaled the start of filming and so it began.

Rooney remained in place for a beat, watching Cate speak into the phone. She allowed Therese's wordless longing to settle in her bones, making her heavy with feeling. Then Rooney started to climb into the adjacent unoccupied bed, allowing her hair to fall slightly over her face and her shoulders to bow. Cate shifted to look at her, and Rooney caught the minute, perfect softening of her naked features.

"You don't have to sleep over there," Cate said, in Carol's sad, husky voice.

Even tired and in the lightest dusting of make-up, Cate was too beautiful.

Rooney sucked in a small breath before heading over, seeing the camera roll backwards along the tracks, taking in the watching faces of the crew in her periphery. The room was respectfully hushed.

Rooney turned her back to them when she got onto the bed. Cate's expression crumpled on cue as they embraced tightly.

This was the closest she had been to the woman that had been her idol since she was thirteen. For a moment, Rooney's senses were deluged with surreal awareness. She wanted to shiver. Mercifully she didn't. But she could not overcome the deafening roar of blood rushing in her ears.

When Cate moved to release her, Rooney turned and her lips pressed into the soft hollow of Cate's neck. Beneath the subtle notes of the perfume she wore, Rooney could smell the sweet scent of her skin.

Rooney knew she was blushing furiously. Could Cate feel the heat of her ears, her cheeks? But Cate was a consummate professional, and gave no indication. Rooney could feel the gentle pressure of Cate's fingers against her wig, Cate's long legs shifting against hers, their breasts pressing together. She lifted a hand to Cate's hair, hardly daring to touch her.

Then, at last, their lips bumped and came together.

—

Cut scene and the set came to life again. As they detangled, Rooney sunk into a private humiliation but she did her best to mask her discomposure. Cate seemed unruffled, saying nothing of Rooney's reddened cheeks, and stood to stretch.

"I thought that went well."

"Yeah," Rooney responded, after a short pause.

They smiled at each other.

—

The scene was re-shot one more time with small changes for options in editing, and they moved onto the next.

That night, Charlie called. Cheekily, he cut to the chase - "Was she everything you dreamed of?"

Rooney groaned, covering her face with her hand. "It was fine."

"Saving it for the spank bank?"

"Don't."


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Short update here. It should go without saying that none of this is real, Rooney & Cate & everyone else named here belong to themselves and I do not know them. This is all fake, fake, fake, and just for fun. Also I am looking for a beta-reader for this and a few other Carol/Price of Salt things I am working on or just any ol' person to bounce ideas with. PM me!

* * *

It was 6am and Rooney was back at work, waiting for everyone to set up. She was not sulking. If she stood a touch further away from everyone else, quietly warming her hands around her coffee, while surreptitiously watching Cate mingle - well she just wasn't a sociable morning person, that's all.

Anyway, there was nothing to sulk about. Everything was fine.

She took another sip from her cup. Black with a teaspoon of sugar, perfect. She idly scrolled through texts on her phone. Most of her friends were probably still sleeping, and rightly so.

When she looked up again, Cate was just a few steps away from her. There was a familiar fluttering in Rooney's chest. She leaned into the wall behind her, going for nonchalant and casual.

"Good morning."

"Hi," Rooney attempted to say. But nonchalant and casual came out like a dry croak. Great. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Um, good morning."

Was it just her or were Cate's eyes a little more knowing than usual? Her lips were twisted slightly down, as if resisting laughter.

"It's early…" Rooney said, by way of explanation.

"Late night?" Cate smirked and tilted her cup in toast, "Ah, to being young."

 _I might have been tormented all night by our scene yesterday and my completely unprofessional childhood crush on you_ seemed too creepy to admit, and was not something Rooney ever would say, so she sipped her coffee instead before responding - "I'm early to bed lately. I don't believe you can't party with the best though."

Cate hummed, then said a low joking voice, "Find us some decent vodka, perhaps you'll find out."

But before she could respond, Cate was already looking around, "Have you seen Sandy? She asked me to meet with her for a fitting, but she wasn't in her room."

"I - um, I think I saw her by the breakfast earlier."

"Wonderful," Cate said, touching Rooney's elbow in parting, "I'll see you in a few hours darling."

Rooney couldn't help but watch Cate's hips and the strong lines of her legs as she left.


	3. Chapter 3

On a rare day off in their tightly scheduled month of filming, Cate invited Rooney over to run lines. For co-leads in a romantic film, Rooney had seen precious little of Cate outside of the few scenes they had done so far. It seemed strange that Cate would ask now, when their unspoken strategy so far was to delay the pleasure of the other's company for the benefit of allowing it all to happen in front of the camera, but Rooney didn't question it.

Cate's place was dimly lit, and warm, swathed in deep sensual hues of purple, black, and brown. Rooney ran her fingertips over a dark marble console table by the entrance as she followed Cate deeper yet into the empty apartment.

They entered the living room where the heavy curtains were drawn and Cate smoothed her hands over the back of her couch, leaning her weight into her arms. The whispered sound of her moving against the fabric in the unnatural silence made Rooney shiver.

Cate's eyes were pale silver in the half light, inscrutable. She was watching her and uncharacteristically quiet. Rooney took her cue and didn't speak, but wordlessly took a seat and gazed across the room where a large painting was hanging. It was strangely familiar.

Finally, Cate said, "Would you like a drink?"

She gestured at the liquor cabinet adjacent.

Rooney shook her head, "I'm fine."

Cate walked over anyway and fixed herself a drink. She added a few cubes of ice and swirled the amber liquid around in her glass, _clink clink_ , before coming to sit next to Rooney on the small two-seater. "Where's your script?"

"I-" Rooney began, wondering at herself before she remembered, "Oh I have a copy on my phone."

Cate's smile was wry but she didn't say a word.

Then a fit of madness must have come over Rooney, because she was bold enough to say, "But you didn't invite me over to run lines."

"Oh?"

"No."

"Hmm," Cate seemed to find this funny. She sipped her drink, _clink clink_ of ice sounding almost musical. The smell of her whisky wafted towards Rooney, strong and sweet. "Why's that?"

"You're Cate Blanchett." _You don't need to run lines with me_ , Rooney added internally, "And we don't have lines tomorrow," she remembered.

"Very good," said Cate, and as she shifted her leg brushed Rooney's. They seemed to be sitting very close, quite suddenly.

"Why?"

Cate rested her drink on the coffee table and her thumb on her knee, idly brushing at a speck on her own trousers. "I find you interesting."

Rooney's stomach flipped. She swallowed convulsively. Again she asked, "Why?"

"You're attracted to me aren't you, darling." It wasn't a question.

Dread and electric anticipation were violently entangling, vying for dominance. "I don't know what you-"

"Come closer." Cate uncrossed her legs and tapped her thigh. Something in her face seemed to say _I dare you_.

Wide-eyed, Rooney acquiesced. She gingerly climbed onto Cate's lap, guided by her hands until she was sitting astride her. She could feel Cate's hips warm and solid between her legs. A hot blush was engulfing Rooney's entire body.

"Good girl," Cate purred, moving her hands up until they were at the top of her jeans, under the hem of her shirt, just touching the skin of Rooney's midriff, loosely holding her steady.

Rooney couldn't speak.

"Yes, I've wondered about you ever since the Santa Barbara Festival," Cate continued, speaking low and slow as though she was soothing a skittish mare. Her right thumb was now rubbing gentle circles into the sensitive skin of Rooney's side, each rotation sending a hot jolt between her legs. Cate's free hand now moved to encircle her thigh, fingers pressing close to the inseam of her jeans. Rooney felt dizzy. She was _burning_. Cate's face was so close now, those full red lips, those half-lidded eyes watching, watching her…

What was that sound?

 _Clink clink clink…_

Cate's drink was still on the table.

No - wind chimes. Outside her window.

Very abruptly, Rooney found herself in pitch black. She twitched, disoriented, realizing she was lying on her front, her limbs clumsy with sleep. Her sheets were tangled around her legs, her comforter somehow up around her shoulders.

She blew out a frustrated breath, face full of pillow.

That dream again.

Rooney rolled over and sat up, smothering a potent pang of disappointment. She extricated her limbs from her covers, wincing involuntarily as she recognized the cooling slickness on her thighs.

She tapped her phone on the bedside table. 5:00AM. Saturday.

 _Clink clink._

Those chimes were coming down today.


	4. Chapter 4

As usual, this is a complete fantasy. Not real. That said, do drop a line in the reviews if you are enjoying the ride. Comments, constructive criticism, etc all equally welcome.

* * *

Frankenberg's.

It was a stupid little obsession, really. What else? She wasn't _in love_ , ugh, she hardly knew the woman. It was only, well, profound admiration for someone at the top of her field. Who was also smart and witty and generous. And gorgeous. Rooney wasn't deluded enough to think anything would ever come of it. It wasn't anything like with Francesca from back when, or the dalliances with which she'd engaged with other actresses ("Always the older women," her sister Kate had observed, not without amusement)… Cate was happily married with children. She had met them all, and they were delightful.

Rooney donned her Santa hat with resolve. _No method acting, no funny business, keep that character stuff separate from your real life, dreams be damned_ , she admonished silently.

Todd and the set team had done exceptional work on the location, dressed it just as the upper scale department stores in the lookbook that Todd has assembled. The smell of new paint still lingered faintly in the air.

Speaking of - she spied Todd briskly cutting his way towards her. Through the throng of costumed extras, his characteristically unruly hair, headset, and modern dress gave him an anachronistic look, slightly out of time. "We'll start in a few minutes Rooney," he said, gesturing with a pen in hand, "Ed's getting a stationary shot of you from camera one, and you'll just sort of look over your shoulder to just catch Cate, that _coup de foudre_ , lit against the dark wall just left there."

Rooney nodded quickly to show her understanding.

"There she is," Todd said, moving towards the entrance. The buzz of excitement in the room seemed to grow louder.

Nearby, a bespectacled woman sighed reverentially, "Wow, she's _perfect_."

Rooney turned. She had seen this costume before during dress rehearsals, but Cate never failed to floor her. Even the pale mink - enormous, luxurious, practically a creature of its own - on another, it could have been absurd - had nothing on Cate's luminous face, posture, and height.

A line from the Miranda July book she was reading skipped across the surface of her thoughts: _She was a woman. So much a woman that for a moment I wasn't sure what I was._

But, she had a job to do and she was supposed to be saving it for the camera. Rooney looked down, focussed inward on Therese, and pushed out the noise. Distantly, she heard everyone shuffling into position.

—

Carol's house.

It was an idyllic Ohio suburb, wide streets and handsome estates not unlike where Rooney grew up. A commercial jet passed overhead, momentarily disrupting the silence.

Her and Sarah were sitting outside on the steps, smoking between takes. The herbal cigarettes they smoked on set always gave Rooney a sharp craving for the real thing.

"I hope you don't mind me breaking code but - girl, you got it _bad_ ," Sarah took a drag and gave Rooney a oblique look.

Rooney knew just what she was talking about and, not knowing what else to say, she pulled her coat more snugly around her and sighed a soft sound of discontent.

"Don't worry, it's not obvious. Unless you know what to look for. Besides, who could blame you?"

The particularities of their conversation seemed to hang heavily in the air, unsaid.

In the end, perhaps Sarah took pity on her because she changed the subject. "Are you coming to dinner at Jill's tonight?"

"Yes, as long as she's not... cooking," Rooney replied with a faint smile. Jill was amongst many of their mutual acquaintances, the number of which partially attributed to Sarah and Rooney becoming fast friends on meeting. And she was notoriously inept in the kitchen.

"Heavens, no!" Sarah exclaimed with exaggerated revulsion, making Rooney laugh at last. "She wouldn't dare after last week. Nearly burned the house to a cinder."

The door behind them swung open.

"There you both are!" Cate said, rushing outside. She seemed to be simultaneously trying to pull on a coat and pat down its pockets, succeeding at neither. "Oh for God's sake…"

"Need a hand?" Sarah asked, already standing and helping Cate into the sleeves.

They were all giggling when finally Cate straightened herself out and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She huffed dramatically but managed to sit next to Rooney with some grace, delicately crossing her long legs and fixing her hair. Rooney felt herself sit up a little straighter. "Light, anyone?"

"Me," volunteered Rooney, sticking her cigarette between her lips and quickly locating her lighter. She managed to hold the flame steady as Cate cupped her hands, still warm from being inside, against Rooney's chilled fingers, and lit her cigarette.

Cate took a long pull and moaned. Rooney, predictably, had to try _hard_ not to blush at the sound. She was keenly aware of Sarah smirking in her periphery. "Oh… at last. Thank you dear."

"No problem," she mumbled as she neatly pocketed the lighter. "Are we almost done in there, do you think?"

"You and Sarah, yes," Cate agreed, then smiled without resentment, "As for me, it's days to go."

"Your boys must be getting restless," Rooney observed quietly.

"Are they here then?" Sarah asked.

"They're here with me in Cincinnati, but not on location today," Cate explained in a humorous tone, "They are out painting the town with our _au pair_ at the moment. Those larrikins are driving her crazy, unquestionably. I'll have to double her salary to keep her after this little 'vacation'."

"Please they're perfect angels," Rooney interjected, laughing.

"Sarah, Rooney can only believe this astonishing drivel because they're all half in love with her. Naturally they are _perfectly_ well behaved in her presence, solely as they're too busy preening to get into any mischief. However, it is no less a pretense." Cate confided over Rooney's objections, and raised her eyebrows. Her phone went off, "I'm sure that's them now. Pardon."

As Cate stepped away to take her call, Sarah turned to Rooney, "More than one? I don't know how she does it."

"Three. And she's an actual goddess, I think," said Rooney, earning another knowing look which she ignored.

The door opened again, and a clipboard bearing assistant stepped out. "Ready to go in five."

Rooney and Sarah stood, putting out their cigarettes. From a distance, Cate covered the mouth of her phone and waved, "Don't wait out for me, I'll be there in a minute."


End file.
